


Ceremony

by orphan_account



Category: Star Control
Genre: F/M, Giant Centipede Sex, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kohr-Ah lose none of their aggressiveness when in heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ceremony

Your mate is beautiful.

This is, of course, self-explanatory; all Ur-Quan are beautiful. But as it is with most members of your species, it is this one specimen that has caught your eyes. All of them at once, in fact.

Like you, he is a Kohr-Ah. Like you, he has thick, lovely, porous grey skin, with occasional bands of immaculate red- the perfect width, you have to say.

Your mate is beautiful.

Typically this infatuation would not outlive the mating season, but your mate is employed in the navy- a captain, at that. So it is that you have agreed on a formal partnership.

You would have difficulty understanding the concept of casualness, if you were aware of its existence.

Earlier that day, your mate had personally scorched Gamma Fornacis II, the barren corpse of which you can observe if you take a look outside. The sight would surely make your legs tremble, just as the sight of your mate indiscriminately sending out wave after wave of plasma had.

You recognize these feelings. You are in heat.

And really, it's just as well- it has been too long since someone has challenged his pride.

As Ur-Quan you make a clear distinction between two kinds of pride: there is pride in one's kin, and pride in oneself.

Starship captains often have copious amounts of both.

This would be fine, were it not for the fact that as a direct consequence, he has been neglecting you lately. 

Kohr-Ah do not leave their problems unsolved.

As you hear the door to your shared quarters slide open, you issue a quiet hiss.

It is the kind of hiss a juvenile Ur-Quan would make after cracking the exoskeleton of its first dung beetle.

“Hin-Rask,” he says, and dips his head in greeting.

You don't answer. You are far too busy being sprawled out across his nest.

He comes to a halt before you, his crimson eyes inspecting you. “Hin-Rask, that's my area.”

You pretend to carelessly shift a few of your appendages.

You do not understand the concept the casualness- but you are very much familiar with the concept of coyness. “You were savage today, Ziv-Ri.”

“Was I.” You can feel the hard edge in his voice, though his rapid blinking confirms he is getting flustered.

He's never been too good at hiding emotions. He's never liked playing your games.

“Yes,” you respond, and you mean it. “You make us all proud.”

“Get out of my space.” It's an order.

You decide to push your luck, as all good hunters do. “What if I told you I had injured myself and can barely walk?”

“Impossible. I would smell your wounds.”

You curtly nod. “Given this, and the fact that I presently have still not relinquished control of your nest- what conclusions can you draw?”

He grunts. “Hin-Rask, get out.”

“No,” you gently say.

He lunges at you, but you can tell he's not taking you seriously- you would have seen that coming even if you were drugged. Soon your front pair of legs is clutching his.

You lean forward and run your tongues across his eyes.

He makes the sound of water turning to steam. “What are you doing.”

“Playing with my food.”

He gives a sudden push, forcing you onto your back. In your surprise, you let him climb atop you. “I did smell _something._ ”

You can't help but chitter faintly.

You are cut off by the sensation of his mandibles mouthing at your body, with care that could be mistaken for tenderness.

He is turning your shell to fire.

“Z...” Your voice trails off and you hate yourself instantly. “Ziv.”

He bites, cracking your charcoal skeleton slightly. You screech.

You wrap your lowest pair of legs against his, then brush another free limb against his head. “Kiss me,” you instruct.

Your tongues merge, each finding a partner.

He tastes of blood. You want to eat him up.

You begin the ritual of tugging and being tugged forward, and you almost lose yourself in his delectable saliva. But you must remain focused.

While he is busying himself, you extend an appendage downward. You freeze as you encounter a mass of flesh.

It pulses. You can't help but be impressed with yourself.

You give it a light squeeze, and another when you are rewarded with a whimper.

Ziv-Ri pulls back, a thin line of spit bridging the new gap between your bodies, connecting you.

You make a nice pair.

He exhales heavily. “If you want that, you need to turn over.”

You give his exoskeleton a pinch. “I don't _need_ to do anything.” You wrap any spare extremities around him to prove your point.

“You're insufferable.”

“That's not what your penis was indicating.”

This earns you an earnest smack. It is satisfying.

You reward him in turn by unhooking your legs. He pretends not to notice the newfound mobility.

“You're going to ruin my padding, Hin.”

You lightly butt heads. “Not if you fill me up soon enough.”

He peckishly grinds against you. “You leave me with no other choice.”

“As was my intent.” You softly push him away, and he complies, leaving you with an opening.

You turn over, finding yourself in a position that benefits both of you.

You have done this before.

He nestles himself against you, nuzzling the back of your head. “You smell delicious, Hin.”

You squirm under him. “I can assure you, I _am._ ”

He growls softly, his length prodding at your oviduct and causing you to shiver beneath him.

He's going to tease you so much and you're going to loathe every second of it.

He doesn't. He jams his entire member into you and you scream, then you go numb, your entire body shaking as your brain is wrapped in a blanket of white-hot light.

Soon, you will become a rutting beast. Soon, you will not be able to think.

You take a gulp of air, then push back against him, his legs gripping yours tightly in instinct. He, too, begins thrusting, and in just a few moments you are one, your movements perfectly synchronized, each of you forcing out small bursts of air and sound with each motion.

In that moment, you lose all sentience. You become primordial; you are nothing but an animal, driven by nothing but instinct. Images race by, sensations of heat, of adoration for the one you are completing this ordeal with, and you know he feels the same.

You hardly notice when the two of you finally climax, the pleasure a constant buzzing which only begins to subside when Ziv-Ri slumps against you heavily, panting.

This causes you to gradually realize you are exhausted as well.

Soon, you will bloom and bear fruit, offspring. The two of you have fulfilled your duties to your species- and, given your performance, you hope you have made your ancestors proud as well.

And really, what more can you ask for?

You let your head fall forward, resting. You have a feeling you will fall asleep like this, and that is alright. You feel empowered with newfound fortitude.

When you awake, you will need to have a talk with your mate.

For now, however, you are content to let your mind wander as you drift off.

You have, once again, confirmed that your mate is beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> About 600 words into writing this, I found out centipedes (which the Ur-Quan are based on) don't actually have sex to reproduce.
> 
> I probably could have researched this beforehand.


End file.
